Chapter Text
ドキドキ
Bakugou Katsuki could be extremely dangerous to be around; that’s something Shouto discovers unwillingly (and somewhat painfully):
- Example one, Todoroki cut his finger the first time he saw Bakugou in a sleeveless tank top—back when they went to their first school trip together out of town and they were making dinner. It just... kind of surprised him, he guesses. Sure, Todoroki had eyes, and sure, he knew beforehand Bakugou had, in fact, an athletic body. He had caught glimpses of it sometimes in the locker room while they were changing back to their uniform (not because he was looking, but because he was there and Bakugou was as well and sometimes he was just... in his line of sight). But it was never like this, and it got him out of guard. Bakugou's broad shoulders on full display, biceps muscles flexing, skillful hands maneuvering with some ingredients... it was just... too much skin. Todoroki wasn't really at fault for getting sidetracked in his own chore (cutting vegetables).
- Example two, Kirishima (accidentally) knocked Todoroki out when they were in P.E. and he got mesmerized by watching Bakugou gulp down water from his thermos—he hit Shouto’s head with a basketball as Todoroki absentmindedly followed a trickle of water rolling down and dripping over Bakugou’s jawline and half-bare shoulder. Bakugou lifted up his uniform shirt to wipe off the sweat from his brow, and a line of skin of his stomach got exposed, and Todoroki's mind went "... huh" and then everything suddenly got black. He woke up in the infirmary an hour later with a headache, a frowning Bakugou sitting across his bed (that ended up scolding him after he made sure he was okay), and then a Kirishima bowing down beside him, frenetically apologizing over and over. The good thing about this experience, though, was that Bakugou bought him lunch (he also gave him a piggyback but refuses to acknowledge it happened even with all the witnesses) and Kirishima invited him the next day. (Again: not Todoroki's fault. [Not Kirishima's either]).
- Example three, he embarrassingly smashed himself against a door when he was distracted watching Bakugou fan himself with the collar of his uniform, complaining about how fucking hot it was, when they were carrying some notebooks from Aizawa’s office to their classroom.
And just like those, there are many more: a long, mortifying record of Todoroki tripping over himself (at a volleyball match while he got a glimpse of Bakugou's thigh), biting down on his tongue (back when Bakugou smiled at him, unfiltered and genuinely amused at something Todoroki said), hitting himself (in a showcase after Bakugou fixed his scarf in winter and Shouto got tremendously distracted thinking about it), and so many, many more.
Sometimes, Bakugou was just thoroughly distracting. Breathtaking. He was intoxicating, drew you in the instant he showed up. And maybe that was the reason Shouto liked taking photos of him so much: Bakugou Katsuki was bewitching. There was just something about him... It was easy to get your attention on him once he was around.
Todoroki found himself staring at him more often than not—his stand, entering a room like he owned it whole; his pretty fingers holding the violin bow firmly but delicately while he plays Crystallize or Someone You Loved in the music room, focused frown adorning his features, ash-blond hair falling over his forehead, body arching with the melody; sharp teeth worrying his lips while he reads in class, sunlight filtering through the window and bathing majestically over his skin; pink tongue sticking out to lick at the corner of his mouth when he's feeling anxious about something, cherry lips shining enticingly; looking up at Shouto with deep, crimson eyes through golden lashes when he asks him something; lingering, genuine grin after he wins a competition, clear eyes and fluttering eyelashes…
Yeah.
All of that could lead to injuries.
.
Exhibit A
June
It’s the middle of June, cicadas chirp and buzz outside, calmly resting in some trees at the school gardens, and the midday sun peeks through the big, glassy windows as they pass by in the long corridors of U.A. Aizawa ordered them to carry some notebooks from his office, and they’re coming back to their classroom now before the lunch break ends.
“Ah, fuck.” Bakugou grumbles, irritated, and Todoroki watches as a single drop of sweat rolls down the column of his neck. “I hate summer. It’s hot as fucking hell. I’m going to melt here.”
He grunts and scowls, and this is probably the moment Shouto would do a snarky, teasingly sassy remark about Bakugou’s complains, if only he could stop staring at the way Bakugou’s Adam’s apple bobs and catches in his neck. It’s a whole scene—as if he swallowed or gulped down a bottle of water in a matter of seconds.
Huh.
The thing is, Bakugou doesn’t put on their uniform incorrectly per se, but he wears it as “rebellious” as possible without actually breaking the dress code rules—first button unbuttoned, uniform pants hanging low on his hips, and he’s always missing his tie. When it’s summer, he often opens his shirt a bit more (not by unbuttoning it, but kind of… opening the collar of it a tad wider); as a result, a lot of his skin is exposed—his collarbones, neck and part of his shoulders.
His skin is clear, smooth and a bit tanned; it’s obvious he takes care of it. It’s really pretty, and practically unblemished—not that Bakugou would be any less pretty with something on his skin, but it’s kind of impressive—there’s a couple of freckles at the base of his nape, probably because of the sunlight, but that’s it.
He’s sweating right now; not a lot to be gross, but enough to be seen. His brow is a bit sweaty, and his cheeks are a bit red, and his neck glistens slightly. Shouto can’t stop staring—though the reason of why he keeps doing it is unclear to him.
“We’re not even in summer yet, though,” he keeps saying, annoyed, “what the fuck June? Do better.”
He lifts up an arm—and he has rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, so Todoroki can see the soft skin of his forearms now—and fans himself with the collar of his shirt. And it’s such a simple gesture, but it’s making his heart do funny jumps inside his thorax; he might as well feel it rocketing in his throat.
“And the fucking A.C. had to broke down now.” He grunts, puckering his lips in a moue. Shouto doesn’t really get why the view sends his head spinning, but it does.
“Mmm.” Todoroki clears his throat, that suddenly feels very dry. It’s hard to swallow when he tries. Holy cats, he looks good. Good, good, good. Shouto’s mind is a messy jumble of collarbones, neck, collarbones, neck, arms, arms, collarbones, shoulders. “Yes, you’re—it’s hot. It’s hot.”
Bakugou side-eyes him.
“Yeah?” he gives him a look. “Are you even okay? You always get weird when it’s hot.”
“Yes.” Todoroki manages to croak out, raspy voice, trying to ignore the way he can’t stop staring at the elegant column of Bakugou’s neck. It’s just—everything about him is so ridiculously… attractive; from the strong line of his jaw to the soft curve of his cheeks, the pointy collarbones, the muscular and firm skin, the lean, well-defined arms, his graceful fingers, his pretty wrists…
Todoroki swallows again.
“Are you sure, Bakage?” Bakugou asks as they turn on a corner, fire-red eyes pointedly looking at him through fluttering, gold eyelashes.
“Yes.” Todoroki repeats, and stares at Bakugou’s nape as he moves. “I’m j—”
Bam.
One second, Shouto is looking at the back of Bakugou’s neck and trying to focus on other thing; another, and all he sees is black. He stumbles and, at the third second, he’s on the floor, blinking his eyes at the white ceiling of the school, books scattered all around him.
The sound of steps and background chatter buzzes in his ears for a moment, and then Bakugou’s voice comes into focus.
“Wh—” Bakugou turns around immediately when he hears the crashing sound, “what the hell?! Did you not see the fucking door, dumbass?”
“Uh.” Todoroki answers simply, oh-very-eloquently.
Bakugou’s pretty face blurs in his line of vision as he kneels down next to him, concerned frown wrinkling up the skin between his eyebrows.
“Are you having a heatstroke, moron?” He asks, voice tinted with worry despite the insult. “Do you feel dizzy? Does it hurt?”
“Um.” Todoroki blinks once more, and then covers his eyes and rubs them with the back of his hand. He lets it fall to his stomach a couple of seconds later and looks at Bakugou, who stares back intently. “I think I’m fine. Just—need a second.”
“Mmkay.” Bakugou mumbles, and presses his fingers against Todoroki’s forehead. It’s embarrassing the way he kind of leans into the touch, but Bakugou’s eyes soften a bit when he does, something akin to exasperated fondness and relief dancing in them, and the corner of his mouth pulls up just a tiny bit in a nascent smile, so Todoroki guesses is worth it. Shouto closes his eyes and smiles, content; Bakugou snorts quietly, like he was amused of Shouto enjoying himself while lying there in the middle of the corridor.
“Your fingers are warm,” Shouto whispers, like it’s a beautiful secret, like it’s some kind of treasure he just found; voice raw and heart aching with every breath he takes. He just wants to—
“No shit.” Bakugou retorts in a rare, unusual low voice (at least for him), as if he was afraid of waking someone up. “It’s hot, idiot. Of course they’re warm.”
Todoroki shakes his head slightly. “I mean. You’re always really warm. It’s nice.”
There’s a pause after the words roll out of his mouth, a beat of silence long enough for Todoroki to actually start feeling an uncomfortable itching in his throat. Um.
“Hey.” Bakugou utters, voice deep and vibrating in Todoroki’s very core. “Are you hallucinating already?”
Todoroki opens one eye. “… No?”
He frowns; the tips of his ears are red. “Then don’t say weird shit.”
“I didn’t say something weird, though.” Todoroki retorts, opening his other eye; very self-aware of the fact that Bakugou’s fingers are still very much touching his face.
Bakugou’s frown deepens. “You did.”
“Hmm.” Todoroki hums, and then closes his eyes again. “I think you’re just embarrassed. Like every time I compliment you.”
“Hah?” Bakugou arches an eyebrow and tilts his head back. “What kind of lame compliment was that?”
Shouto quirks an eyebrow back. “I said it felt nice.”
Bakugou squints at him, presses his lips together.
“You sure seem to like falling flat on your ass,” he points out seconds later, and Todoroki bites the inside of his cheek to stop the laughter coming out at the fact that he changed the topic out of embarrassment, “you haven’t moved a single bit.”
“That’s because the floor is pretty comfy.” Todoroki deadpans. “It’s colder than the actual room. I might as well fall asleep here.”
Bakugou flicks at his forehead. “Stupid.”
“What?” Todoroki offers a simpering smile; eyes glinting. “You’re gonna step on me?”
Bakugou quirks an eyebrow. He leans in, just enough to note the darker outline of his irises, barely five centimeters away from Todoroki's face.
Shouto’s breath catches in his throat unwillingly, and then Bakugou opens his mouth and deep voice rolls down and hits Todoroki full force.
“Would you like that, pretty boy?”
Todoroki doesn't really know why, doesn't really get it. Bakugou has called him that before, most of the times out of mockery, but the way he says it right now sends Todoroki's heart into a race. He's not sure what kind of expression is he making, but he feels his neck and face heat up, and that means he's probably blushing.
Bakugou stares. For a moment, he looks confused: maybe at Todoroki's silence, or at the mix of the myriad of emotions that are probably dancing in his face. Then, his eyes open a fraction, and he blinks, maybe realizing what he just said.
“God fucking dammit." Bakugou mutters, his face dusting a faint pink and getting a bit flustered (probably in response to Shouto's embarrassment). "You have been around those idiots too much. Did you seriously think of something dirty right now?”
“I didn’t—" Shouto shakes his head. Why are they alone again? Hasn't the lunch break ended already? "I just—” Your voice.
"You just?" Bakugou arches an eyebrow. His ears are still red, and he looks... endearingly embarrassed, and for a moment, it helps calming down Todoroki's own weird and sudden flusteredness.
"I didn't think anything like that," Todoroki confirms, and then the corner of his mouth tugs into a small smile. He tilts his head, “What would I think, though?”
Bakugou stares, and then squints his eyes at him.
“Shut up, bastard, and don't act innocent.” He says, and Todoroki's smile grows a bit. “Don’t think you can change the topic every time you act cute.”
“I'm not changing the topic, though," Todoroki counters, amusement siping through every lace of his voice, "And I'm not acting cute."
"That so?"
"Yes." He hums. "Oh, but maybe you think so because you find me unbearably adorable."
Bakugou quirks an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk teasing the edge of his mouth; a mix of pleased surprise and something more Todoroki couldn't quite place in his eyes, like he found Todoroki's smugness shockingly appealing.
"You—”
“Todoroki-kun?”
Midoriya's voice ringing through the hallway makes Bakugou's sentence die in his mouth, and Todoroki feels a hint of distant, faint dissapointement settling in his stomach at the end of their conversation.
“Bakubro,” Kaminari's voice says, maybe a tad too fakingly theatrical, and both Todoroki and Bakugou glance at him. Their friends are walking towards them, confusion and worry written in most of their faces. “Did you attack Todoroki?”
“The fuck?!" Bakugou says, scowling at him. "He just stamped himself in the fucking door like the dumbass he is.”
Kaminari stops a step away and looks between them.
Then, his eyes fix on Todoroki, and he gives out a smile that makes him feel weirdly self-aware. It strangely feels like he knows something Todoroki doesn't, but that he should.
“Must have been distracted, huh,” he kind of singsongs, and his eyes sparkle cheerfully as he shoots Shouto a look surreptitiously.
Todoroki feels his face heat up unwillingly. His mind wanders relentlessly. How does he even know? Is he that obvious? Is it weird?
Wait, what is obvious? What's going on? Is it that obvious that he was staring at Bakugou before? Does he stare too much? Is everyone aware of that? Is that creepy? Is...?
“Hah?”
“Nothing, dude." Kaminari dismisses, making a vague gesture with his hand. "Just intellectuals talking. You wouldn’t understand.”
“You fucking—”
“Ah, wait! Wait, wait!" Kaminari screeches, as he starts trying to escape from Bakugou's sudden attack, "Todoroki is still on the floor!”
“Yeah, and I’m gonna put you on the floor with my foot.”
“Dinner first.”
“You—!”